


What a Wonderful World This Would Be

by waltermitty



Series: Natasha, Bucky, and Clint Smooch Fest [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky goes by James, Canon Disabled Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Bliss, Everyone lives, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), everyones pretty fucking bummed, nat feels things !, post Endgame, sad clint!, so I will, steve is sad too, tattooed clint, thanos snapped, the author took liberties with their fate, the russos wont let us be happy, then again who wouldnt be, we dont erase clints identity here folks!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18368129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltermitty/pseuds/waltermitty
Summary: That's the funny thing about war. It doesn't spare the young, the old, the broken hearted. War comes for everyone, it creeps its dark tendrils into the things we love and it yanks them away, sucking them into an abyss. But alas, we have hope. Hope breathes its shaky breath into our lungs, the lights long burnt out, flickering back to life.Clint, Natasha, and James, and their journey through Infinity War.





	What a Wonderful World This Would Be

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Sam Cooke's "The Man Who Invented Soul" album while I wrote this, and clearly, it rubbed off on me! I originally wanted to write a fluff piece to soothe our hearts for this upcoming movie, but then I got carried away thinking about poor Clint during infinity war, and also his tattoos, and I decided it had to be sad.  
> Here are the links to the songs in the fic, in order! I put together a mini playlist so you can listen to them as you read, or just to listen to them after! 
> 
>  
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/sophfraulini/playlist/3OLdfnOvAkKoPOdQt7xlSI?si=6hsXi7Z1Sf-D-8JzeQAUCA

_“Don’t know much about history, /Don't know much biology,/Don't know much about a science book /Don't know much about the French I took, /But I do know that I love you,/And I know that if you love me, too,/What a wonderful world this would be”_

 

The notes rang through the farmhouse, the record player spinning dutifully as Clint swayed Nat back and forth, up the stairs, into the bathroom, into the spare room, back down the stairs, and eventually waltzing her into the kitchen.

 

_Don't know much about geography,/Don't know much trigonometry/Don't know much about algebra,/Don't know what a slide rule is for/But I do know that one and one is two,/And if this one could be with you,/What a wonderful world this would be_

 

The afternoon sky bathed the wooden cabinets and white linoleum counters in a pink haze, the orange streaks lighting a fire in Nat's braid. It eventually falls loose, whether it be from all the spinning and overzealous dipping, or maybe the head tipped back laughter. Clint tangles his bandaged fingers in it, hearing aids turned up just enough, the soothing sounds of Sam Cooke floating around them, coating their skin, their eyes, mouths, and ears in memory.

 

_History/Biology/Science book/French I took/But I do know that I love you,/And I know that if you love me, too,/What a wonderful world this would be_

 

“I love you,” Nat mouths, tipping her head to the side and tickling along Clint's scruff with the tips of her nails. Clint promptly dips her, Nat falling backward and just barely grazing the floor, slowly rising as he pulls her up. They eventually mosey into the living room, the record squeaking as the needle drags across the flat expanse. They untangle, Clint padding over to flip the record, to start the magic right back up again.

 

_You're always on my mind, instilled in my heart/You're always on my mind although we are apart/You're always, you're always, always on my mind_

 

Clint walks right back to Nat, right into her arms. They sway, barely moving, Nat’s sock feet pressed heavily on Clint's, the shuffle of his feet shifting them both. The world turns on around them, the screen door slapping in the breeze, the gentle sounds of gravel crunching pressing into their conscious.

 

_And baby, the reason why I know I can't forget your face/'Cause everywhere I go, I see you every place/ You're always, you're always, always on my mind_

 

The screen groans its complaints as a booted foot wedges its way between, arms full of groceries, followed shortly by a crooked grin and dark blue eyes. James sets the bags down, toeing off his boots. Nat sees him first, fingers wiggling at him as he watches Clint mouth the lyrics into her hair, eyes closed. They’re angelic, Nat somehow wearing an entire outfit made from James and Clints closet. James’s sweatpants are rolled around her slender hips, three times to be precise, and she's donning Clints favorite Journey tank top. Clint’s just wearing these little purple shorts that Nat and James bought for him, a glittery silver trim wrapping around the waistband. His purple work socks are on holes in all sorts of places. Blonde hair sticking every which way, a black eye, and several hello kitty bandaids plastered on various parts of his face and jaw alike.

 

_You know it's you I love, to my heart, you hold the key/I pray the stars above, oh, that you hurry back to me/You're always, you're always, you're always on my mind_

 

Groceries long forgotten, James toes off his boots and wanders into the living room, sidling behind Nat, the soft cotton shirt he’s wearing sticking slightly to her sweaty skin. She leans back into his chest, her head resting in between his shoulder and neck, Clints arm slowly reaching for James’s hip, bracing her between them. They sway there, holding one another close, the sky throwing shades of orange and red into their eyes, the trio dancing onto the surface of the sun. Soon the pinks and purples of night creep in, dancing off of Nat's pale skin into the dark, making her their source of light.

 

_Be nice to her whenever you can/And as you cross the street always hold her hand/And you'll find out/Tenderness goes a long, long way_

 

They sway into the kitchen, James belly laughing, the melodic sound echoing in Clint’s heart, beating it, as Nat trips them all. Ending up in a pile, mere feet away from the pink cake box so enticingly placed on the counter, they just lay, fingers tracing James’s, Nat's hair tumbling into Clint’s mouth and nose, suffocating, filling his lungs with coconut and coffee. Finally, the cold of the Spanish tile begins to seep through their clothes, Clints bare back pressed to the floor, shivering underneath them like he’s got hypothermia.

 

_So, smile at her when she does something wrong/Always be there to pick her up and make her strong/And you'll find out/Tenderness goes a long, long way_

 

James throws open the cake box with a flair reserved for this very audience, a barely audible ta-daaaa falling from his lips, dark hair tumbling out of its bun and cradling his face. “Happy Anniversary” Clint recites, the green script flowing across the chocolate frosting. James makes a valiant effort to stop Clint from swiping a giant finger through the scrawl, bringing it to his lips and licking it all off with a satisfied hum. Nat just rolls her eyes as she grabs the cake knife and the plates, James grumbling through the utensils drawer as Clint whines for forgiveness. Natasha pirouettes around the counter and into James open arms, the two of them taking a moment to dance where they stand.

 

_So, be kinda sweet to her, oh and be gentle too/You'll find out/What that, oh, what that tenderness can do/You'll find out, you'll find out, you'll find out/Tenderness goes a long, long way_

 

Several hours later, cake completely destroyed, Nat, Clint, and James are all piled on the couch, the moon dancing off of their skin and into their laughing mouths. The world seems to stop for them, stolen kisses and calculated touches the embrace of skin on skin setting them ablaze. Hard lines of battle slipped away, replaced by the kind of joy that can only come with true love. Pulled from the memory, yanked out, and thrown onto a battlefield, Natasha and James fight side by side, fighting for their home, their house ridden counterpart. When Steve had given them the call, telling them that Tony was gone, his voice breaking, telling them that he was sorry to pull them off of vacation, but that he needed them. The pain in his eyes when they finally met up was almost too much to bear, the grief of the phone call he never got so tangible in his blue-green eyes. Clint rode in the car with them to the property line, threatening to come and whoop some ass himself if they weren't careful, tears pooling behind his poorly disguised gruffness. Natasha gave Clint a firm kiss and embraced him, held her head high, trying to exude calm strength for her boys. James sobbed into Clint's shoulder, gripping him tight as if he knew it’d be the last time they held one another for a long time.

 

_Nobody knows the trouble that I've seen/Nobody knows my sorrow/Nobody knows the trouble that I've seen/Glory Hallelujah_

 

Natasha returned to an empty house, the walls stripped of all color, even the sunset quick and dull. After the snap, after watching James turn to dust, his cry echoing in her ears, after listening to the wail of Clint’s broken heart, she was ready to run to him, to gather what was left. Natasha was alone, and alone in this big house meant that the record spun on, jumping and scratching in time to her sobs. After several weeks of her self exile, she pulls herself together, tying her hair back in a braid, wishing desperately that Clint were here, carefully weaving, the strands catching in his bandaids as he worked. She wished for James to come thundering down the stairs, water gun in hand, soaked, chest heaving as he held her at gunpoint, Clint tripping quickly after, laughing as they pinned her down and ruined the floor.

 

_Sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down/Oh, yes Lord/You know sometimes almost to the ground/Oh, oh yes Lord_

 

She tracks him to Tokyo, Steve offering his company, but she shakes him, telling him this is a trip she needs to make alone. She finds him on a rainy night, the days blurring together, into a haze. His hair is different, his eyes dark and empty. He drops the sword, barrels towards her, crushing her in his embrace, whispering “I’m so sorry” into her hair, tears mixing in the rain. They hold each other in the darkness, swaying to the melody in their heads, as if they’re back in the farmhouse, watching James absolutely ruin a perfectly good roasted chicken. They fly back to headquarters, Clint sitting in stunned silence the whole way, Natasha tracing the intricate tattoos on his arm, back and forth. He fiddles with his hearing aids, flipping from silence to radio static. “James is going to love the new ink” she signs to him, and he smiles at her, a hollow smile.

 

_If you ever change your mind/About leaving, leaving me behind/Oh, oh, bring it to me/Bring your sweet loving/Bring it on home to me/Yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)_

 

It’s a years time, all of them battle-worn and beaten, but finally, finally triumphant. Banner and Thor are celebrating with Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, Steve, Nebula and Rocket in Avengers tower, the Red Skull's words echoing in their heads even through celebration. “The Stone demands a sacrifice, something you truly love.” Thor gave the lock of he and Loki's hair he had kept, braided together. Tony giving the first arc reactor, Cap his shield. Natasha gave the well worn Sam Cooke tape she kept with her, Clint giving his bow and quill. Nebula and Rocket gave their weapons, two fine guns made from Nebula herself. Bruce gave the ring that Thor had given him, forged out of the remains of Mjolnir. Everyone had lost. Perhaps it was the flicker of hope long burnt out, the flame stoked by their last sacrifice. The air was thick with anticipation, Tony having hung a very gaudy welcome home banner in the tower’s common area, streamers and balloons strewn haphazardly around them. Sam was first, Steve choking back a yell as he ran across the room to embrace him, Sam sobbing as they held one another close, gripping his hair tightly. Wanda and Vision were next, blinking in the lights, hands intertwined. Tony was bouncing on the balls of his feet as Peter appeared, a “Mr. Stark!!!” roaring from his lips as he leaped into Tony’s arms. Quill and the rest of the Guardians appeared, Peter and Gamora clutching one another as it all sunk in. Rocket cried, yipping excitedly in Peters arms. Loki embraced Thor, a deep rumble shaking in the God’s chest, a sun beam shining through the glass, dancing along them, as if welcoming Loki back itself. Natasha was gripping dents into Clint's back, arms around his middle, holding her breath, for all her careful composure was cracking as there was no sign of James.

 

_If I go a million miles away/I'd write a letter each and every day/'Cause honey, nothin',/Nothin' can ever change this love / I have for you_

 

After a day with no sign of James, Natasha and Clint said their tearful goodbyes, promising to visit soon. They retreated to the farmhouse, gravel crunching under their feet, welcoming them home. As if saying hello itself, the pink sunset painted the house in golden light, bathing the figure in their doorway in an angelic haze, Clint dropping their bags and sprinting towards the house, crying, slipping into James’s arms. They tumble back into the grass, the notes being spun off the record floating into the breeze, Natasha herself whooping and running right after Clint, falling into their embrace close behind. James just grunts, tears tracking down his face in steady rivulets, hand tangled into her hair, the other wrapped around Clints strong neck. He buries his face in the other man's shoulder, Clint wailing and wiggling them all closer together. After a few moments of this, Nat rolls off of James, letting him sit up, as he grins that crooked smile at her. “I told ya. Nothin coulda kept me n yous apart. “ His Brooklyn accent thick and familiar. He smiles again, tears pooling in his dimples, Nat herself feeling the warm track of tears dripping onto her neck, down her shirt. Clint holds them both close, there in the grass, breathing each other in. “You came home” he whispers, tracing the line of James lips with his fingertips, as if to feel that they’re real. “Everyone began to disappear, James began, the low gravel of his voice like honey in her ears. “Sam kept wanting to be back with Steve and Tony, when they all finally got together, that night in the tower. Peter wanted to be with Tony as well, Loki with Thor, The Guardians with their crew.” He pauses, swallowing, presses a kiss to the ink covering Clints arm, intertwining his fingers with Nats. “All I could think about, all I wanted to come back too, was the two of you, dancing to that shitty Sam Cooke record in our home. And then I woke up here, waiting for you two.” He looks between his lovers, taking in the shape, the form of their faces, and he knows, he knows that for all the battles, all the blood, sweat and heartbreak, that their love is what calls him home. 

 

_When you get back/I'd just say/Welcome home,/'Cause honey, nothin'/Nothin', nothin' can ever change this /Love I have for you_


End file.
